Sweet Promise (12 page)

"What kind of arrangements?"

"Well.. .1 talked to the Captain this morning. His family is sailing with him this summer, and his sixteen-year-old daughter has volunteered to sit with Lori for the remainder of the cruise. In fact, she's anxious to."

"Volunteered?" Sean cocked a skeptical brow, then narrowed his eyes. "You're paying her, aren't you?"

A guilty flush crept up Joanna's neck. "Well....yes, I am," she admitted reluctantly. "But that's just between Maria and me. The Adamsons need-never know. Maria's going to come by our table tonight and beg them to let her keep Lori while they visit the islands." At Sean's admonishing look Joanna tilted her chin. "I know I'm interfering, but where's the harm? Susan and Bill can enjoy their second honeymoon, and Maria is delighted to be earning some extra money. And I can certainly afford to pay for a few hours of baby-sitting.''

After a moment Sean's stern look faded and his eyes grew warm. "That was a very nice thing to do, Joanna." His voice was deep and soft, caressing her like warm velvet, making her skin tingle deliriously. "And it was very nice of you to keep Lori today."

"No, actually I was being selfish." Joanna glanced at Sean and her mouth twisted wryly. "I needed the practice, since I'm going to have a new baby brother or sister in about six weeks or so."

Sean studied her intently, then sat up straight and turned sideways on the sofa. Stretching his arm out along the back, he played idly with the spaghetti strap on her white terry cloth sun shift. "You're really pleased over this baby, aren't you?"

"Yes. Yes, I am." The smile that tilted Joanna's mouth was soft and dreamy, full of pleasure. "Matt adores my mother, and she him. It seems only right that a love like that should produce a child. And besides, it's
what they both want.''

"And what do you want, Joanna?" Sean asked softly, running his forefinger up the gentle slope of her shoulder to her neck.

A shiver rippled along Joanna's skin. She swallowed hard. Turning her head, she looked at him with wide, dazed eyes. "Wh—what do you mean?"

"I mean you've changed. The Joanna I knew four years ago never had a thought for anyone but herself. It would never have occurred to her to help out a young couple, to saddle herself with a rambunctious child just so they could enjoy themselves for a few hours. Or to be gracious and attentive to a sweet old couple like the Wrights." His fingers trailed fire over her skin and caused goose bumps to spring up all over her as they moved up the side of her neck and tugged gently at her lobe. Joanna could barely concentrate on his words. "And my guess is," he continued in an even softer voice, "that Joanna would have been resentful, possibly even outraged by her middle-aged mother having a baby."

Joanna tilted her head, trying to evade those tormenting fingers. Lord! Didn't he know what his touch did to her? "We... we all grow up eventually."

"True. But you've done it so beautifully." His fingers slipped from her ear into the thick, still damp hair at the back of her head. With his other hand he cupped her chin and drew her face around. She found herself staring into his dark eyes, and her heart began to flutter wildly at what she saw there. "So very beautifully," he murmured huskily as his gaze dropped to her mouth, and his head began its slow, purposeful descent.

Joanna thought she was going to faint. Her heart was chugging like a runaway train. When his lips settled softly over hers its speed almost doubled. Her eyes fluttered shut and her breathing stopped completely. Every cell, every molecule in her body tingled with vibrant awareness, almost unbearable excitement. She was afraid that at any second her whole system would go on overload.

The kiss was warm, tender, tentative. His lips caressed hers with a gentleness that was devastating. Rocking slowly back and forth. Nibbling. Rubbing. Joanna sat there motionless, her insides aquiver, her chest tightening with a sweet, sweet ache.

He nipped her lower lip with gentle savagery, and her inner quakes became an ecstatic shudder she couldn't hide. Immediately the kiss grew bolder.

Seeking became hungry demand as his lips grew firmer and his tongue probed the soft barrier of her lips. Without thought of denial, Joanna opened her mouth to grant him entrance and sighed helplessly as he tasted the honeyed sweetness with deep, evocative thrusts.

The hand that cradled the back of her head tightened. Grasping her hip with his other hand, Sean rolled her toward him, bringing her closer. The heat of their bodies combined, and the mingled scents of woodsy cologne and baby talc rose between them.

Joanna was almost afraid that she was dreaming. Only this was so much more wonderful than any of her dreams. Years ago she had spent hours trying to imagine Sean kissing her with tenderness and passion, how it would feel to be held in his arms, but now all those foolish fantasies faded into nothingness. They had been paltry, insubstantial things that had not even come close to the exquisite pleasure of reality.

As Sean's mouth rocked hungrily over hers the hand at her hip slid around and cupped her buttocks, squeezing the firm flesh while pressing her even closer. One of Joanna's hands clutched at his shirt front, the other crept up over his chest to his neck, and her fingertips tentatively stroked the side of his jaw.

Sean's mouth left hers, and Joanna's head tilted back as he trailed a line of kisses along her jaw and down the side of her neck. "Oh, Joanna. Joanna. You're so sweet. So very sweet." His warm breath dewed her skin as he murmured the words in a voice that was husky with passion. He nipped her lobe, then his tongue bathed away the tiny pleasurable pain and moved on to trace the graceful swirls of her ear.

Joanna shuddered, then drew in a deep breath. With it came a measure of reality and caution. This was wonderful, sheer heaven, but the tiny kernel of fear deep inside her would not let her ignore the danger. Very gently, she pushed at his chest. "Wh—what are you doing, Sean?" she finally managed breathlessly.

She felt him smile against her neck. "I would think that's obvious."

"Don't toy with me, Sean. Please."

He grew still, and slowly, he pulled back far enough to look at her. Her lips were slightly puffy and rosy, her face flushed, but the glaze of passion was fading from her troubled eyes. He remained silent, but Joanna knew by his expression that he understood.

"I... I'm very attracted to you, Sean. But...well...you could hurt me very badly. You must know that."

Sean released her completely, and Joanna sat up straight and stared at her hands, twisting them together in her lap. Feeling like a fool, she chewed at her inner lip, but after a moment she looked back at him. "Things could never be just casual between us, we both know that. There's your friendship with my parents. And your career. Plus I'm not... that is... I don't..."

Sean put his hand over hers, stopping their frantic writhing. "I understand, Joanna," he said with a tender smile that somehow made her spirits sink even lower. "And you're right. I shouldn't have kissed you. I, uh.. .1 guess I just got carried away for a moment there."

He gave her hands a squeeze, then stood up and wandered aimlessly around the room, his fingertips stuck in the back pockets of his jeans. Feeling wretched, Joanna watched him, and when he paused and gave her a determinedly friendly smile she tensed, knowing what was . coming but dreading it all the same.

"Look, I'm sure you can manage fine now on your own. Lori will probably sleep for two or three hours, and by then her folks will be back. So I think I'll go up on deck. I may even go ashore for a while."

Joanna stood up and mustered a smile. "Of course. Go right ahead. I shouldn't have any problems." When he reached the door she added in a stiff little voice, "And thank you, Sean, for all your help. I really appreciate it."

With his hand grasping the door handle, he paused and looked back at her. "Are you all right?" he asked with soft concern.

"Of course. I'm fine."

Her determinedly bright smile faded with the click of the door. She stared at it for several long seconds, and fought against the urge to cry. Why had she been so damned honest? Why couldn't she have just taken what he'd offered? At least she would have had something. A few memories.

But even as her mind voiced the protest, Joanna knew, despite the pain, that she had done the right thing, the only thing for her. She simply wasnt the kind who could survive on memories.

* * *

Grim faced, Sean strode down the companionway, silently cursing himself.
Of all the stupid, reckless things to do! God, Fleming! All right! So she's lovely and you're attracted. That's no reason to lose your head. Hell, you're a thirty-six-year-old man who ought to know better, not some randy teenager. What the hell's the matter with you, you stupid ass?

With angry motions, Sean unlocked his cabin door, stepped inside and slammed it behind him. He paced the confines of the small room like a caged tiger and called himself ten kinds of fool. But what really bothered him, what made him feel like a thorough bastard, was the fact that it had been Joanna who had had the sense to call a halt. "You were too aroused to even realize you were about to step off a cliff," he spat out in a scathing voice.

What he felt for Joanna was more than just lust, and deep down, Sean knew it, but instinctively he shied away from the thought.

He knew that Joanna had been right: a casual affair between them would never work. And he certainly didn't want to hurt her. Even if he were ready for a permanent relationship—and that was something he wasn't at all sure about—he was too old for Joanna.

But straight talk and common sense helped little. Desire still clawed at his gut. Not for just any woman, but for a willowy, hazel-eyed beauty, a young girl he knew he had no business wanting.

Chapter Seven

J
oanna entered the dining room with her head held high and a sick sensation in the pit of her stomach. She paused just inside the door to look across the room at her table, and the feeling grew worse. The others were already there, including Sean.

The temptation to return to her suite was strong, but she gritted her teeth and battled it down. She refused, absolutely refused, to play the coward two nights in a row.

Clutching her small evening bag in a death grip, Joanna drew a deep breath and started across the room.

As she approached the table the others were busy either talking or studying their menus, and Joanna slipped into her chair almost before anyone spotted her. "Good evening, everyone. Sorry I'm late." Smiling, she glanced around the table, being careful to avoid Sean's gaze.

"Joanna, my dear, there you are," Mary greeted warmly. "We were beginning to wonder if you were going to join us tonight."

"Yes, we certainly were," Susan chimed in. "In fact, Bill and I were beginning to worry that maybe Lori had worn you out."

"Oh, no. Lori was no trouble at all." Involuntarily Joanna's glance found Sean, and her pulse fluttered when she discovered him watching her steadily. Quickly, she turned back to Susan. "And anyway, I...uh...I had help. Sean stayed on board and gave me a hand."

"I wondered what happened to you," Gloria said, giving him an arch look. "I searched all over for you this morning. I even went by your room, but you weren't there." Sean frowned, and immediately her voice softened. "I was hoping that we could see Antigua together."

"Sorry." Sean's flat tone dismissed the woman's complaint, and without further explanation he turned his attention back to Joanna.

The Adamsons looked stricken. "Oh, Sean, I'm sorry," Susan wailed. "We didn't mean for you to give up your vacation time to baby-sit our daughter. I feel just terrible."

"Nonsense. I enjoyed it. We both did. Like Joanna said, Lori was an angel." He flashed her his most devastating smile, and Joanna watched Susan melt under its persuasive power.

Quickly, Joanna turned to Mary and asked how she and Charles had liked Antigua, and as hoped, the older woman launched into a detailed description of the tour they had taken, effectively changing the subject.

Though Joanna was tense and uncomfortable, the meal passed without incident. Several times she caught

Sean staring at her, but he never spoke to her. Except for a few remarks directed to everyone in general, he talked mostly with Gloria. When she heard him agree to the woman's suggestion that they go dancing after dinner, Joanna kept her eyes on her plate and stoically battled against the ache in her chest, telling herself it didn't matter.

They had reached the after dinner coffee stage and Joanna was trying to think up an excuse to leave when Tony surprised her by saying, "You know, Joanna, while I was at the beach today one of the passengers said the strangest thing. She wanted to know what you were free, and how it felt, having the daughter of such a famous woman at our table. Before I could ask what she meant her husband told her to mind her own business and dragged her off."

"Of course! That's it!" Mary exclaimed excitedly, clapping her hands together. "I knew your face was familiar. You're Claire Andrews' daughter!"

There was stunned silence, and Joanna cringed inwardly as everyone at the table stared at her. Instinctively, she glanced at Sean for support, but he merely grimaced and gave a fatalistic shrug, his look telling her that she should have expected it.

"Are you? Are you really?" Tony asked, at first with something akin to awe, then with growing excitement.

Joanna hesitated, but after a moment exhaled a small sigh of resignation. "Yes, I am. Only mother is Claire Drummond now."

The admission brought gasps and exclamations, which were quickly followed by a babble of questions. What was it like, having such a beautiful, famous mother? Were she and her mother close? Did Claire miss being actively involved in politics? Was she happy in her new marriage? Pleased about having another child at forty-three? They were the kind of prying questions Joanna had been asked all of her life and she was used to them, but she still found them amazing, and irritating.

Her maternal grandfather had been a powerful U.S. senator. So had her father. Yet it had always been Claire who had fascinated the press and public and been the object of their insatiable curiosity. Never more so than in the past five years since both her husband and father had perished in the crash of their private plane.

It wasn't her mother's fault. Joanna knew that. Early on, her grandfather had recognized what a political asset he had in his only child, and he had deliberately enhanced and promoted that special appeal she seemed to hold for the American people. Claire had grown up in the spotlight, admired, envied, often idolized, and always the object of curiosity and speculation. Sometimes people acted as though she were public property. Claire didn't like it any more than Joanna did, but a lifetime of coping and a more patient personality allowed her to accept the situation with good grace.

With the possible exception of Gloria, Joanna liked her table companions, but as she, listened to their barrage of questions she wanted to tell them all to mind their own business. Instead she forced herself to do what her mother would under the circumstances. Smiling stiffly, she answered them as noncommittally and with as much charm and brevity as she could manage.

Sean finally took pity on her and diverted their attention by casually mentioning that he had been Claire's campaign manager during her aborted bid for the Senate.

Relieved, Joanna sent him a grateful look and settled back in her chair, content to let him field their questions. With his glib Irish tongue and easygoing charm, Sean was a master at handling awkward situations and inquisitive crowds. Many times during her mother's campaign Joanna had seen him hold his own with a whole room full of aggressive reporters.

"Well, I think this is just marvelous," Mary gushed. "I can hardly wait to tell my friends back home. Imagine! All this time we've been rubbing elbows with a celebrity and didn't know it."

"I'm hardly that, Mary," Joanna began, but a squeal from Susan cut off her self-conscious protest.

"Oh, my gosh!" Susan put her hand over her mouth
and looked appalled, her eyes huge. "It just hit me! Joanna Andrews, Claire Andrews' daughter, baby-sat with
our
daughter! No one's ever going to believe it. Unless—" she looked at Joanna hopefully "—maybe you
could... that is... would you let me take your picture
holding Lori?"

"Yes, of course," Joanna agreed pleasantly, but inside she was saddened by the difference in Susan's attitude. Only that morning they had been friends, equals.

Tony caught her eye and gave her an ingratiating smile. "Joanna, I just want you to know that I've always admired your family. Your father and grandfather were true statesmen, the kind this country needs more of. And your mother, well, everyone admires Claire Andrews. She's not only beautiful, she's a great lady."

The others were quick to voice their agreement, even Gloria. Gritting her teeth, Joanna thanked them, hating the fawning and the insincerity.

"I'm delighted, that we met," Tony added, leaning closer. "And I'm hoping that we can stay in touch after this trip is over, maybe even get to know each other better. It's not all that far between New York and Washington. You could come up for a weekend and we could take in a play, or I could come to Washington and you could show me the sights."